A Clever Catchphrase Title from One of Hundreds
by OboeNotClarinet
Summary: Another slice of life thing, like my Destiny series, "I Don't Have Time To Explahhhhhhhh You Know The Rest". Therefore there are more stupid prompts like Roadhog (who is not in the character list, darn it) causing the nuclear apocalypse in a swimming pool. Don't ask. Just read.
1. The High Dive

It was a beautiful summer day. Soldier 76, sporting an apron and socks with sandals, was serving burgers to a laughing McCree. Mercy lounged by the side of the pool in a lawn chair, under an umbrella. Junkrat, ignoring the threat of harmful UV rays, floated around in the water, a duck-shaped inner tube around his waist, armed with a Super Soaker. Laughing and trying to dodge a spray of water was Lucio, with Hana on his shoulders returning fire.

Winston looked out over the scene from the house's balcony, sighing and resting his arms on the railing. It was good for the Overwatch to take a day to relax every now and then; you could only take the stress of saving the world for so long. He felt a slight breeze as Tracer zipped onto the balcony, lemonade sloshing in her glass. The gorilla shifted over, and the speedster draped herself over the railing, one arm dangling while the other held the lemonade close.

"There's nothing quite like a day in the sun," Tracer sighed blissfully.

Winston smiled and closed his eyes. "Agreed. Something about the warmth of the sun, the smell of chlorine, and the sound of laughter makes everything bearable again."

"Couldn't've said it better myself, love."

They stood together for a while, enjoying the beautiful weather and each other's company, until they heard a discussion break out near the pool.

"No, absolutely not," Soldier: 76 was saying to Roadhog.

"Awwww, come on, Jack! Let 'im have a go!" protested Junkrat, clambering out of the pool to stand next to his best friend, duck floaty still around his waist.

"Not a chance. We have this rule for a reason."

"But it would be gloooooorious!"

"No! We all agreed: Roadhog, Reinhardt, and Winston are _not_ allowed on the high dive. They'd flood the neighborhood."

Junkrat smiled. "Bingo!"

Roadhog, staring wistfully at the high dive in question, gave a deep, evil chuckle.

Soldier pinched the bridge of his nose over his visor. "No."

"But don't you wanna… ' _Raise the steaks?'_ " Junkrat giggled.

Glancing down at his apron, Soldier read it, looked back at Junkrat, and promptly tossed him into the pool. He landed upside down, legs kicking until Lucio, chuckling, grabbed the duck floaty and righted him.

"Thanks, mate!" Junkrat said cheerfully before spraying Lucio in the face with his SuperSoaker.

Spitting water out of his mouth, Lucio laughed. "Oh, it's on now!"

The water gun fight continued, peppered with "take that!" and a joking "I need healing!", to which Mercy would respond good-naturedly by placing a hand on top of one of the combatants' heads. Soldier watched for a moment, sighed, then turned back to flip a few burgers. Roadhog was nowhere to be found.

"Aw, hell," Soldier swore, snapping his head up to the high dive. Roadhog bounced slightly on the custom diving board nestled into a faux rock tower, stretching and shaking out his arms. Ignoring Soldier's cursing and threats, he hitched up his green-and-red-striped swim trunks and waved to an ecstatic Junkrat.

Just as Soldier reached the top of the ladder, Roadhog jumped.

A shadow fell over the pool. Lucio and Hana looked up in horror to see Roadhog directly over them, spread-eagle and seeming, for a moment, to fly. Lucio had never speed-boosted in a pool before, but he decided that now was as good a time as any to try. With Hana clinging to his head he sprinted on top of the water and into the house, slamming the glass sliding door shut and turning to watch the apocalypse unfold.

From the balcony, Winston turned to get Tracer to safety, but was met only by a spinning glass of lemonade balanced on the railing.

Roadhog hit the water.

It was as if someone had dropped an atomic bomb into the pool: the massive wave nearly drained it vertically as the water mushroomed up and crashed back down, drenching the entire backyard and slapping against the side of the house. Next to a sputtering grill and soggy hamburgers, Soldier squeezed water out of his apron, swearing. Several people in the sand volleyball court needed healing, but Mercy was lying dazed in her lawn chair, soaked, sunglasses askew over her dazed expression. Duck floaty caught on the weather vane, Junkrat giggled maniacally from the roof, and at the bottom of the empty pool, Roadhog chuckled up at his bomb-loving friend.

"Again."


	2. Old Smoker

Wrecking Ball lounged in the armchair with a cigarette between its… lips?

" _Hammond?"_ its mechanical voice asked. " _I haven't heard that name in twenty years."_

 **I... I don't know either. Pop in with suggestions... please... my brother keeps getting weirder...**


	3. Meat Cars

**Every time I ask my brother, Jsun, for a prompt, he usually makes it** ** _Destiny_** **-related. I told him to do something different, so he thought for a minute, and told me, "No beta, we die like men. Write but don't go back and edit." So I agreed, and he gave me the prompt. Overwatch, with McCree thinking that horses are honestly called meat cars. I'm so sorry. No beta, we die like men.**

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Mercy asked incredulously.

McCree rolled his eyes as if she were missing something obvious. "I _said_ , since there ain't no automobiles 'round here, it'd be nice to get ourselves some meat cars and ride on outta here."

Mercy continued to stare at him as if he were wearing three party hats over his ears and nose. The gunslinger couldn't understand what she was so confused by.

"Ya know… meat cars? Them little four-legged critters with hooves?" McCree prompted.

"Y-you mean horses?" suggested the Swedish doctor. "Please tell me you mean horses…"

"Of course I mean horses. Y'all don't call 'em meat cars 'round here?"

"No! Where on Earth did you come up with 'meat cars'?"

McCree put his hands on his hips and huffed, muttering something about the Midwest being different from "big-city states in the East". He looked back at Mercy and tried to explain.

"Look darlin', out where I'm from, we do things a little differently," he said.

"I know that," replied Mercy defensively.

McCree held up his hands. "This is the American Midwest we're talkin' about. Out there, the corn has ears. You can scream all you like in the cornfield. Sometimes, the corn screams back and you hope it's just a lost hog. Other times, it's dark and you have to beat the eyes home."

"The… eyes?"

"Redder'n a fox in a fire. And angry. My Paw told me never to run into the cornfield at night. He said the Demon in the Corn was hungry for children and that it would gobble you up soon as look at you."

Now Mercy was seriously considering a mental checkup for one Jesse McCree. She hoped that she could convince him to lay in a CAT scan without raising any suspicion from him - maybe she could say that she had detected some radiation leaks on this mission and-

"Angela? You alright?"

Mercy snapped out of her thoughts and shook her head to clear it, smiling at McCree. "I'm just fine," she lied. She would have to ask Winston for a lot of equipment when they returned to base.

McCree grinned and adjusted his hat by the rim. "Good. Now let's see if we can't find us some meat cars."

He took off running, and as Mercy followed, she couldn't bring herself to tell him that there weren't any horses on the set of _Six-Gun Killer_ in Hollywood.

 **Well, there it is. I hope you enjoy reading this Jsun because I nearly exploded trying not to go back and edit this abomination. Does anyone even read the author's notes? Was JelloApocalypse right in saying that they're overrated and largely ignored? Can I say down here that my house exploded, and would anyone care? The world may never know (because they don't read these).**


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